The road stretches out endlessly ahead, the low hum of the engine the only sound cutting through the quiet night. The rain taps rhythmically against the windshield, creating a soothing, almost hypnotic backdrop as you drive through the desolate landscape. The interior of the car is dimly lit, the dashboard casting a soft glow that barely illuminates the man beside you.

Slade sits in the driver’s seat, his posture relaxed but with an ever-present alertness that you’ve come to expect from him. The mask is off for now, revealing his weathered face—scarred, rugged, but with an intensity in his one good eye that never fades.

He hasn’t said much since you hit the road, and that’s typical. Slade’s a man of few words, and when he does speak, it’s usually straight to the point. But there’s a weight to this silence, a calm before the storm as you both head towards your target. You know how these things go—calm can turn to chaos in an instant.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and gravelly, cutting through the steady beat of the rain. "You ready for this?"